A Love Story: Ed and Marion

“It all started when I was about 7 and she was a snotty-nosed kid, always in the way.” Ed beams at Marion, who is curled up with her bare feet tucked under his legs to keep warm. Marion rolls her eyes at him.

In a time and place when so many marriages end in divorce, Marion and Ed Lugdon are the living embodiment of lasting love that, according to Marion, started at UMPI in 1973. Ed and a group of young men spent much of that winter trapping out of a small camp in Portage, Maine. Trapping that year provided an income for the men.  “But,” Ed says with a wink at Marion, “we went to the girls’ dorm for entertainment that winter.”

Marion transferred to the University of Maine at Orono after the spring of 1974 for financial reasons. That summer she played softball on the team Ed coached. “I married my shortstop,” Ed brags as he rests his hand on Marion’s leg.  “She was a damn good shortstop.”

Ed coached the women’s team and Marion played shortstop from 1974 through 1986. Their youngest of four children was born in June of that last year. Marion describes playing in a tournament less than two weeks after his birth. The infant, Dustin, was passed around between anyone who was on the bench and Marion would nurse him in between innings. Ed smiles with pride as Marion tells stories of chasing children and playing ball for many summers.

Ed and Marion were married August 6, 1976. Their oldest child, Shannon, was born that January.

“She was a very large, well-developed preemie,” Marion says behind a smirk.

Ed becomes serious.  “We didn’t get married because she was pregnant.”

“No,” Marion agrees.  “We knew we were going to get married.”

“Everyone knew we would get married.”

“We just hadn’t bothered to set a date,” Marion clarifies.

Ed says with finality, “I married her because I love her.”

Ed says that softball brought them together and they didn’t have much else in common at first.  But, “She just fit into whatever I was doing and I guess I fit into whatever she was doing.”

Neither Ed nor Marion took on the gender roles typical among their peers. They work together on household chores. They worked side by side building their home and continue to work together cooking for and guiding hunters, cleaning cabins, supervising children’s camps and maintaining the grounds at Lugdon Lodge. Ed has always done the majority of the grocery shopping and is just as likely to cook dinner and do the dishes as Marion. Marion is in charge of the firewood and shoveling the roofs of the cabins at the Lodge.

Hunting, trapping, childcare and serving on the town’s recreation board and committees–Ed and Marion did it all together. Until Ed joined the Jaycees. The Jaycees are a nonprofit organization whose creed states, “Service to Mankind is the Best Work of Life.” Despite the Lugdons’ lifelong commitment to public service, Ed admits the subject of his membership was a bit touchy because at that time, there were no women allowed. During a banquet held in West Corinth, the men brought their wives and went around the room introducing them. Each man stood, told his wife’s name and many of the other men confessed to being thankful for having a wife who stood behind them. (While Ed is telling this story, Marion begins to smile and reaches out to take his hand.) “My turn came,” Ed says. “I remember very clearly looking around the room and telling those guys I didn’t know how they did it. My wife is so far ahead of me, I’ll never catch up!” Ed looks over at his wife and says, “And I meant it.  I still do.”

Marion’s sister, Lois (Pierce) Girvan, can remember standing at Peaks Kenny State Park in central Maine when Marion told her she was pregnant. Lois recalls being surprised and worried. I hoped “she knew what she was doing,” Lois said. As she came to know Ed better and her nieces and nephews were born, “It was very obvious that their love for each other and (their) kids was strong.”

Lois tells about how hard Ed and Marion had to work to “make ends meet.” Ed and Marion, however, show little concern for the lack money. Despite concerns about their financial stability, Marion didn’t complain that Ed rarely worked through hunting season. “I don’t know why she didn’t leave me then,” Ed says, telling about how he would quit or ask to be laid off at the end of October so he could hunt “all day, every day” throughout the fall. Marion looks at him and says sincerely, “Of course not. You loved it, I knew you loved it.”

When Marion went back to school to finish her degree in education, she says that Ed took over “all the work, all of it.” Marion remembers fondly how he would put “one kid or another” into the back carrier so that he could still hunt, while allowing her time to study.

Over the last 42 years, the Lugdons have demonstrated self-sacrificial love. In the late ‘80s, Ed was injured on a construction job and unable to work as a full-time carpenter. So, he took over running Marion’s daycare so that she could take a full-time substitute teaching position. Now, despite immense back pain, Ed ,who is semi-retired, spends hours each week maintaining the dogsled trail and caring for 24 Siberian huskies because Marion loves to dogsled.

The Lugdons work and play side by side. They have been and continue to be partners–as parents, dreamers and business owners. Ed says he is sure they have probably had fights, but he can’t remember any of them. The fire crackles in the woodstove behind them. A 2-month-old Siberian husky puppy, Journey, plays at their feet. A large picture window overlooks a fire pit and the lake. Marion gazes out over the darkened lake. “The small things are the big things, you know. Like when I can’t sleep at night, he makes up ridiculous stories and just keeps talking until I fall asleep.”

“She brings me my heating pads every morning.”

“I don’t really like talking on the phone, so he usually answers it.”

“She works full time all fall then comes home and puts in another 8-10 hours so I can hunt and guide.”

“He loads kayaks and canoes and waits at the bottom of mountains so I can run kids’ camps.”

“She makes me eat salad.”

“He says thank-you. And please. Even for the simple things.”

“She keeps my back warm.”

“He kisses me goodnight.”

“She lets me kiss her goodnight.”